The Path of the Chosen
by Huntershelper
Summary: It's been just Brooke and her father for years, but now Brooke is thrust into a world spinning out of control. Hopelessly trying to save the lives of those she loves the most, but will her own destiny get in the way?
1. Chapter 1

word count: 4,490

rating: M (for later chapters)

Authors note/disclaimer: this is an OFC fic. I know many people don't like those so I wanted to get that out there right up front. There will also be a lot of dialogue and references to episodes of the show. I know "be original GOD!" but my brain had this thought of what would the life of a girl who gets tossed into this mess be like and since my brain doesn't know how to shut up this was born. There isn't any direct relationship between my OC and the boys, but there is an inferred PAST "relationship"/current angst between her and Dean for a while. (I know ppl hate that too so I wanted that out there as well.) Please DO leave comments about anything that you think isn't working or that is working well. Please only constructive criticism, outright wank is just juvenile and uncalled for. If you honestly hate it and have nothing constructive to say please keep those comments to yourself. THANKS! And I hope you enjoy! This is my introduction to fanfic writing and I don't know how to keep things short so it will be rather long and I apologize for any hellatus in between chapters.

Chapter One

_The straps on her wrists cut deeper as she writhed in agony. The man she had grown to call her uncle dragged the blade of his knife across her skin for what she felt was the millionth time. The dim candlelight revealed his son, who wasn't much older than twenty-two, waiting in the corner behind him with fear in his eyes and indecision etched all over his face. She didn't blame John for what he was doing; all signs pointed to one conclusion. He was doing what he thought he had to. After all, she had lead them straight into an ambush and had almost gotten them all killed. _

_ "Dad…" the boy in the corner whispered cautiously as John wiped the blood from his knife and dipped it into a large plastic jug of holy water._

_. "Dean, either help or get out!" _

_Dean gave her a pleading look. She shook her head. He closed his eyes in defeat, walked out of the room, and slammed the back door as he left the house. _

_Strapped to the chair and unable to defend herself, she watched as John walked towards her, his face a picture of disgust and anger. "Now that we're alone, let's get this show officially on the road." _

_She could have sworn she saw a twisted look of remorse and apology flash across his face just as he brought the blade down across her left cheek._

Brooke awakened with a start, sweat covering her body and soaking her shirt. She sighed in relief when she realized she was still in her motel room, safe and alone. She slowly stood and walked the three feet to the bathroom. It had been five years since that long December night in Illinois, but she could still feel that blade slide across her skin.

As she walked across the bathroom she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped to give herself a good once over. Long, chestnut wavy locks all in a jumble from tossing and turning - emerald green eyes above dark circles and bags from too many long nights; to the outside world, she was pretty, but the job had really taken its toll. Her small-breasted, twenty-two year old body was lean and strong, but all she saw were the scars. The faint lines that adorned her body were a reminder of her way of life, yet they were nothing compared to the pink scar on her left cheek that still haunted her. She lifted her hand and began tracing it from her left temple, following it dangerously close to her eye and down across her cheek, ending just before her bottom lip. Her mind flashed back to that moment - the moment John's blade slid across her face. The moment her father had burst into the room, saving her from further interrogation. The moment her family fell apart. She shook off the memory as she peeled off her tank and panties and slipped into the shower.

After Brooke had showered, dressed, and expertly concealed her scar with drug store makeup, she tossed her things into her duffle and walked out the door. With her job here complete, she was to return home to Minnesota. She knew her father was off somewhere in Ohio on a case, but it was their rule to return to base when they finished a job. She had been working cases on her own for only a few months now. It was nice to finally be out on her own, but going home was always something she looked forward to. She tossed her duffle in the back seat of her '69 Camaro, also known as the love of her life, and headed to the office to check out.

"Well, Miss Strandferd, did you enjoy your stay with us?" the wiry middle aged manager asked, as she handed him her room key. She just smiled. "It's all on your card. Will you be needing a receipt?" He had barely uttered the word "receipt" before she was out the door.

She slid into her car, popped open the glove box, and extracted a small black bag. She cursed as its contents spilled all over the passenger seat. There were credit cards and IDs of many different types, all containing various names from Baker to Marks to Young, none of which were hers. She quickly collected each piece of plastic and shoved them back in the bag along with Amy Strandferd's credit card. She sometimes felt guilty using fake IDs and cards that weren't hers, but this life didn't have a pay check. That was the life, and she accepted that a long time ago. She tossed the black bag back in the glove box next to her 9mm, revved the engine, and was on her way.

As Brooke drove along she couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Another job well done, another family that can sleep soundly once again. She didn't get paid and it required breaking hundreds of laws, but knowing she'd made a difference in someone else's life made it all worth it to her. As per the rules she picked up her cell and dialed her father's number to check in. It went straight to voicemail, so she left a quick message telling him she would be back at base in just under a day's drive.

After a few hours on the road, her mind wandered back to the dream that had awoken her, the memory of the night she hadn't thought of in years. Her father and John had worked together off and on for years starting when she was just twelve. Their way of life doesn't allow for much in the department of relationships, on any level, but her father and John were thick as thieves. Whenever one needed help on a job, the other was right there to back them up. But that night… the night her father had trusted John to take her out on a hunt, the night she almost got them all killed, was the night that all fell apart. When her father walked into the house and saw her tied to a chair with John standing over her gripping a bloody knife, it was all over.

_Her father pulled out his pistol, pointed it at John, and demanded that he drop the knife and step away from her. John tried to reason with her father and explain his actions. "You've seen it, she's not herself! Something is wrong with her! She's not your daughter!"Her father replied by putting a bullet in John's shoulder, sending him to the floor. _

_The sound of the gun going off brought Dean running back into the house. She watched him take in the scene of her father standing over his with a gun in his face. His eyes flashed to hers, looking for her to give him his next move, but it was all over, there was nothing left that could be done. Her inability to deal, her inability to handle what the two of them had done had broken her family apart. _

"_Get out of this house, don't call me again. I never want to see your face ever again. If I ever see you or your sons," he pulled the hammer back, "I swear to God." _

That was the last time she ever saw any of them. Sam, who was just shy of a year older than her, had left for college two months prior and (as far as she knew) was unaware any of this ever went down. No one had really talked to him since he'd left. It was kind of a sore subject for John and Dean, and as she understood it, they parted on bad terms. Thinking back though, it did seem a bit melodramatic to allow herself to undergo torture so everything was kept a secret from their fathers, hers in particular. But she knew her father, they couldn't have said anything.

Dean was supposed to have been looking out for her, and if her father knew what went down…

She knew John wouldn't hurt her too badly, she could take it, but what her father would have done to Dean would have been much worse. Her father was a kind, loving man, but family was something he held sacred, and if anyone put his family in danger he wouldn't hesitate to put them down.

She smiled in spite of herself. Even with the way they all parted, the secrets, the drama, they were still part of her family. John may have tied her to that chair and cut her up pretty good, but he was still like an uncle to her, despite it all. John was the one who taught her how to work on cars and even helped her get started on the Camaro. She learned more from John and those boys in those five years than she had from her own father her entire life.

Brooke and the boys had their own unique relationships. She could talk to Sam on the phone for hours about everything – he hated this life and always wanted out, but she always managed to convince him that at the end of the day, it was all worth it. She liked Sam, they had a great rapport and were always there for each other. She was just never comfortable with him in person. She couldn't really explain it, she just got an uneasy feeling whenever he was around. She told Dean once, but that only started jokes about she and Sam having crushes on each other. When Sam left for school, he stopped calling and stopped taking her calls. He completely cut himself off. At first she was angry, but she learned to understand that you have to cut all ties and contacts in order to really get out. She missed him sometimes.

Brooke's relationship with Dean, who was nearly five years her senior, was a bit different. She'd admit she idolized him a little bit, even if he had the tendency to be a jerk sometimes. Having grown up in this life he had become an amazing hunter and learned to adapt to situations quickly. He knew what it took to get the job done, which for him included using his good looks and charm to his advantage. Dean was the one who taught her how to fire a gun when she was thirteen; he even gave her the gun that she kept in her glove box. Dean was the "Keeper of Sam" as she liked to call him, since he'd watched out for Sam ever since they were little. When Sam left, that need to protect someone seemed to transfer to her. She'd found him more annoying than her father at times. She had a lot of fond memories from those five years though, and knowing it was her mistake that led to the end made her heart ache.

Dean blamed himself for the lot of it, of course. Two days after her father had chased them away she got a voicemail from Dean apologizing for everything _"It's me. I just…God… I promised I would always have your back and I let you down. I don't know what I was thinking, maybe I wasn't thinking, but I shouldn't have let it go that far. I should've..." He began to sniffle as he continued. "I should've stopped my dad, I should've just stepped in and ended it, but you had asked me not to say anything, so I didn't, But God, Brooke, I should have! And I'm sorry. It's all my fau-"_ and the message cut out. That was the first time she had ever heard him come even remotely close to crying. That was Dean though - always shouldering the responsibility. She had tried to call him back, but his number had been disconnected. She saved it though, because it was the last time she would ever hear from him. She listened to it so many times she lost count, but deleted it a year later when she decided she needed to move on.

So now it was just Brooke and her dad, since her mom had died when she was just a baby. Her dad kept the details pretty much to himself, but he told her when she was eight, after much crying and pleading. Something had killed her and he was determined to find what it was, and that was why he was hardly ever home. That was something over which he and John bonded. John had lost his wife to something as well and had a vendetta to find the thing that did it. It was John who convinced her father that keeping her in the dark and not teaching her to defend herself would come to no good. Little by little her father allowed John, an ex marine, to teach her hand to hand combat. She also pretended not to know how to use a gun when her father decided to teach her a month after Dean already had. She wanted to help, she wanted to be useful. She knew, just as John had explained, that she was a liability as long as she was kept in the dark, rendered useless. So she learned, and she learned as much as she could as quickly as she could.

She hadn't thought about those boys in a long time. The sound of her cell brought her back to the present and she let out a little laugh as she fished it from her jeans pocket. She noticed the sun had begun to set as she glanced at the caller ID. She didn't recognize it, but fellow hunters were always changing their numbers.

"Hello?"

"Brooke?" Her heart stopped. It had been five years, but she would know that voice anywhere.

"John?"

"Yeah it's me. Where are you?" There was a hint of concern in his voice.

"On I-90, just outside Winona."

"Pull over."

"John, I told Dad I would be home by nightfall, I can't just-"

"Just pull over." The sense of urgency in his voice had her concerned.

As she pulled the car over to the shoulder a terrible thought crossed her mind. One of the boys was dead. It had to be, why else would he break the silence after five years? Her mind began to race, trying to figure out which one it could be, how it could have happened, mixed with reminders to stay calm and wait for an explanation. She killed the ignition and prepared herself for the bad news.

"Parked. What's going on, John?"

"Don't go home."

"What do you mean, 'Don't go home'?"

"Go West on 90 until you hit Sioux Falls."

"You want me to go by Bobby's? Is there a job he needs help with? I mean, I'll help. Dad's in Ohio on a case, so I just gotta tell him I won't be home as planned."

"NO! Don't call your dad. They can't know where you are."

"Who's 'they', John? What's going on?"

John sighed and a sick feeling settled in her stomach. He wasn't calling about the boys.

"Dad's not in Ohio anymore, is he?"

"No. Caleb called me yesterday to tell me Pastor Mike was killed and that your father was on his way to help investigate."

She remained silent, waiting for the inevitable.

"They're gone, Brooke, Caleb and your dad. I'm so sorry." He paused for her reaction; all he received was more silence. She couldn't process what he had said. She heard it, but her brain refused to connect the dots. "This demon we've been chasing...it's going after everyone we've ever worked with, and when I found out about your dad, I had to be sure you were okay."

Her mind began to reel. Her father was gone, killed by this demon that John was after, killed because John was after it, killed because they had been friends. Her father was gone. She was all alone.

"Brooke, you there?"

She had to collect herself. Yes, her father was gone. Yes, she was all on her own now, but if what John was saying was true, she may be in danger. She had to compartmentalize and focus. A skill she was forced to master at a young age.

"Yeah, John, I'm here. So...Bobby's?"

There were very few hunters that didn't know Bobby Singer. He had become a staple in the community with his knowledge of the supernatural and his ability to uncover any information that one would need. If there was anywhere that Brooke would be safe from this demon, it was with Bobby. It had been a little over a year since she had seen the crotchety old man. She hated dropping all this on his door step after such a long hiatus, but she didn't think she had a choice.

She took a long look at the decrepit old house on the right as she rolled past broken down, rusting cars that filled his lot, a reminder of the life he led before he started hunting. He used to run a salvage yard – still did on the side, as a matter of fact. But just like all hunters, once you got into this life, it consumed you.

She parked her car behind the house, got out, and looked around. She saw the shop a few hundred yards away where she'd done some work on her Camaro years ago. This was also where she and her father had gotten into their first real fight. She was just a week shy of eighteen and he was getting ready to head out on a job with John, leaving Dean and Brooke at Bobby's. She had gotten wind of what she believed to be a potential haunting of a house in a town not too far away, something small, something easy, and she wanted to see if she could help this family out.

_ "Absolutely not and that's final."_

_ "But Dad, it's just a simple haunting, nothing major." She said as she pulled a sawed off out of the trunk of her camaro and placed it in a duffle._

_ "I said no," her father had said taking the duffle out of her hands and tossing it into the trunk._

_ "I'm eighteen, I've been hunting for nearly six years, this is child's play compared to some of the hunts we've done." _

_ "I don't care how long we've been at this and what kinds of things we have hunted, you are not doing this job alone." He shut the trunk with force and turned his back to her to walk away in an attempt to end the conversation._

_ "Than I'll have Dean come with me. He's done jobs like this on his own before it'll be like a milk run for him," she stepped in front of him cutting off his path to the exit. She was determined to go on this job. She was an adult now and she felt she needed to start proving she was truly useful. This wasn't the first time her father had dropped her at Bobby's to go on a hunt without her. Ever since she could remember he was ditching her here and there if he could. She always got the feeling that he didn't fully trust her as a partner. She knew it wasn't just out of protectiveness because when she _was _on a hunt with him he was always more concerned with getting the job done than her getting hurt._

_ "Absolutely not!" He startled her with how quickly and loudly he responded that time, "I don't care how many hunts he's done on his own, you sure as hell are not taking him with you."_

_ "So does that mean I can go on my own?" She knew she was being overly hopeful, but a girl had to try._

_ "NO!" He pushed her aside and pulled open the door, "and if I even HEAR of you THINKING about going on this hunt, alone or not, I swear to God, Brooke," he gave her a glare to rival all glares before walking out the door._

_ She was so furious with her father that that night she snuck out of the house. When she opened the door to the shop she was almost surprised to find Dean leaning against her car._

_ "I figured you couldn't let this one lie," he said with a smirk as she popped the trunk to take quick inventory of her stash. _

_ She had collected quite the arsenal over the years. Any time they had come across a new weapon she would find a way to fit it into her hideaway that John had helped her fit under the fabric in the trunk, mirrored after the one in his own car._

_ "I also figured that since this would be your first case without the old man that you might like some back up," he had added when she had remained silent._

_ "Thanks, but I think I can handle this on my own." She was too angry with her father and too determined to prove herself that she didn't want to deal with his annoying commentary at the moment._

_ "Did you completely read the file Bobby had on this?" He pulled a folded manila folder out of his back pocket and opened it, "apparently the family has been to the hospital a few times already for 'unexplained injuries'," he glanced up from the folder to take note of any recognition on her face. When he found none he continued, "So I kinda think that this spirit isn't too happy about something and probably won't like a stranger popping off salt rounds at it, but if you think you can handle a pissed off spirit on your first time out solo than be my guest." He folded the folder up and crossed his arms as he leaned against the car._

_ He was right. If this spirit was hurting the family it was definitely pissed off about something and the last thing she needed was to be tossed around a room and have her ass handed to her with no one to back her up. She knew that she could count on Dean not to snitch on her, but she also could count on him having a tiny bitch fit for leaving him behind. Besides, she could always trust Dean to have her back, he hadn't failed her yet._

_ "Fine," she couldn't help but smile when he raised his eyebrows and got this look like he was a five year old who was just told he was going to Disneyland, "but we're not listening to classic rock the entire way." The look of glee was replaced with that of sheer disappointment._

She closed her eyes remembering that job. If she had just listened to her father she never would have been tied to that chair all those years ago, there wouldn't have been the huge falling out and maybe, just maybe, her father would still be alive.

She turned to the house and walked up the steps. The back door opened just as her feet hit the top step and from inside the house emerged Bobby himself. He stopped short when he spotted her.

"Hiya, Bobby."

"Hey," He said softly as he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "Sorry to hear about your daddy, kiddo," he said as he stepped back.

"Thanks." She stared at the ground. "Bobby," she sighed, "I need a huge favor."

"Anything, why don't you come on in?"

As she entered the house she was hit with the familiar smell of Old Spice and whiskey – the smells of Bobby. His home was an old farm house that had gone to the dogs. On every surface were books upon books, all dealing with the supernatural. In between the books were randomly placed bottles of whiskey, some empty, some on their way to being empty. She took a seat on the old musty couch amongst even more books.

"What can I do ya for?" Bobby said, all business-like as he sat on the edge of his desk.

"I need a place to hide out." No point in beating around the bush.

"Hide out? You think whatever it was that got your dad is after you?"

"I don't know if it is or not, but John thinks it might be and-"

"John Winchester?"

"Yeah, he said this demon he's after is ganking all the people he's ever worked with and told me to hide out here."

Bobby stood up, removed his ball cap, ran his fingers through what little hair was left, and sighed. As he replaced the ball cap he said, "Sure. I can put you up for a bit, or until John figures this shit out, the idjit."

"Thanks, Bobby. And you know I don't expect this to be rent free, I'll help you out with anything you need while I'm here."

"Damn straight you will," he said with a smile.

Bobby was a crotchety old man who spoke his mind, was tough as nails, and one of the best hunters she'd ever met, but he'd always treated her like one of his own. She'd even once heard him say to her father, "I think of her as my daughter too, Chris. I'm not about to see anything happen to her either."

She tossed her duffle on the bed in the spare room, flopped down, and stared at the ceiling. She tried to think of anything else except her father being gone. She tried to think about the noise her car had begun to make on the way here and what that could possibly be. She tried to think about her most recent case. She tried to think about sleeping. But no matter how hard she tried she kept hearing John's voice telling her that her father was dead.

She felt a tear break free and it was all over.

Everyone she had ever cared for was gone. She cursed her life and cursed her father for ever bringing her into this. It was nothing but death. Every time she got close to anyone they were ripped from her, either by death or by the sheer messed up realities of her world. She was quick to remember that it had been John who convinced her father, who had wanted her to remain clueless, that he should bring her in to this. John… if they had never met John none of this would have happened. Her father would still be alive. If John wasn't so reckless that damned demon would never have gone after her father, would never have left her alone in this horrible place. She vowed that she would get out of this life, start an honest, regular life, but not until she found the demon that had killed her father and sent it back to Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note: ** There is a lot of direct quotes and actions from ssn 1 ep 22 and I do not claim any of the direct quotes as my own. I did this mostly for continuity and to SHOW her in their lives and establish a time line. This will happen from time to time, so either get used to it, get over it, or don't read it. Please DO leave comments about anything that you think isn't working or that is working well. Please only constructive criticism, outright wank is just juvenile and uncalled for. If you honestly hate it and have nothing constructive to say please keep those comments to yourself. THANKS! And I hope you enjoy! This is my introduction to fanfic writing and I don't know how to keep things short so it will be rather long and I apologize for any hellatus in between chapters.

Chapter Two

Brooke woke to the sound of voices, rolled over and saw that it was ten in the morning. She figured she better get her ass outta bed and make herself useful. If she kept herself busy she might be able to fend off another night like the last. She slipped on some fresh clothes and tied her hair up in a pony tail, before she made her way down the stairs. When she reached the landing she froze. The voices mixed in with Bobby's were voices she knew. Voices she hadn't heard in years. They belonged to Sam and Dean.

They were talking about how they had found the thing that killed their mom and how a demon that seemed to be working for it was killing off their friends because they had found the colt. The colt was rumored to be able to kill anything, even demons, not just send them back to hell, but kill them for good. All hunters believed this gun to be fictitious, but if a demon had its panties in a twist over John having his hands on it than the rumors must be true. They talked about how the demon offered John a truce if he would give up the colt. Of course John wasn't that stupid so he left the real gun with the boys and took a fake to meet up with the demon. Apparently the boys had located the thing that killed their mom and John was giving them the time they needed to use the colt and take care of it for good. That's when he went missing.

Anger grew inside her at the mention of John, the man who was responsible for all this, the man that had gotten her father killed. She wasn't angry with the boys; they obviously would have had no clue as to their father's plan, that's how John was. If the demon that killed her father had John and the boys planned on going after it she wanted in. She slowly made her way down the stairs, careful not to make any of the stairs squeak. As she walked into the kitchen she heard Dean say to Bobby, "Thanks Bobby, thanks for everything. To tell you the truth I wasn't sure if we should come."

"Nonsense," Bobby replied, "Your daddy needs help."

"Well yeah, but the last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buck shot. You cocked the shot gun and everything."

"John seems to have that affect on people," She said as she leaned against the door way with my arms crossed. Dean turned around; a look of utter surprise on his face, while Sam looked up from a book and without hesitating walked towards her and with his six foot five frame took all five foot nine of her up in a hug. Brooke noticed that she still had that same uneasy feeling in his presence that she had had when they were kids. "Hiya Sam." she said when he put me down. She glanced over at Dean, who averted his eyes, "Dean."

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked with a hint of concern.

"Hiding out," she shrugged. "Your dad called me yesterday and told me…" she couldn't bring myself to say it out loud, "told me what happened and, uh, said I should hide out here until this is all over, just in case."

"I don't know exactly how much 'hiding out' you're gonna be doing here," Dean said with a scowl on his face.

"What do you mean?" She glanced from Dean, to Bobby, to Sam, and back to Dean.

"It's coming here, or at least we hope it is." Sam interjected when Dean declined to answer.

"The demon? The one that killed… Pastor Jim and Caleb?" She just couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Yeah, Bobby has this idea that we can trap it in one of these protective circles," He walked back to the book he had been reading when she walked in. "See." He turned to a page depicting a circle, within which were a pentagram and another circle. Within the circles were odd symbols and letters.

"They really work?" She asked. If Sam was right and that thing was coming here she wanted to be sure they could trap it and return the favor.

"Oh yeah, you get a demon in one they're trapped, powerless. It's like a satanic roach motel." Bobby said as he took a seat on the edge of his desk.

"Man knows his stuff." Dean said breaking his silence.

"I'll tell you something else too." He looked at Sam and Dean. "This is some serious crap you boys have stepped in. Normal year I hear of, say three demonic possessions, maybe four tops."

"And?" Dean asked as he took a seat on the couch.

"This year I heard of twenty seven so far. You get what I'm sayin?" He looked them each in the face. "More and more demons are walking among us. A lot more."

"Do you know why?" Sam asked.

"No, but I know it's something big. Storms comin and you boys and your daddy are smack in the middle of it." Bobby glanced over at Brooke, "and dragging others in with ya."

Just then the dog began to bark. Bobby and Brooke dashed to the window and through the blinds saw the chain, but no dog on the end of it. Brooke's head began to swim, "Something's here," she said just as the back door was busted down and in walked a gal with short blond hair.

Dean reached into his pocket and came out with a flask of which Brooke assumed contained holy water. He took a step towards the girl who took one look at him and with a wave of her hand sent him flying across the room. Definitely a demon!

"No more crap." She turned her attention to Sam, "I want the colt Sam, the real colt, right now."

"We don't have it on us. We buried it," Sam said as he backed out of the kitchen into the study.

"Didn't I say, 'no more crap?' I swear after everything I've heard about you Winchesters, I gotta tell you, I'm a bit underwhelmed." She slowly walked after Sam as Brooke helped Dean to his feet. "First John tries to pawn off a fake gun and then he leaves the real gun with you two morons. Lack luster man. I mean did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

"Actually we were counting on it." Dean said as he walked into the study with Brooke on his heels. The blonde chick gave him this evil look. To which Dean replied by looking up. Brooke followed his gaze to find one of those protective circles painted on the ceiling. If Bobby was right, this chick wasn't going anywhere.

She stood back as she watched Sam and Dean tie the chick to a chair, bringing back memories of her time in the chair. "So this is the demon that's been ganking people, I assume?" Brooke asked Sam as he walked by. Her head continued to swim as she shared presence with the demon, a sensation she had gotten used to over the years, but still found unsettling. Her dad had been the only one who knew this about her.

"Yeah, that's me." The blonde chick answered for him. "You look familiar. Have we met?"

"Highly doubt it. I'm sure if we had you wouldn't be here to talk about it." Brooke took a step towards the girl, a menacing glee welling up inside her as she realized she was about to exact her revenge.

"Oh, now I see it. The family resemblance." A smile crept across the girl's face. "I'm the one that watched your daddy choke on his own blood. Yeah he looked just like you do right now just before my blade slid acro-" Brooke slugged her across the face with all the force she could muster. The blonde chick just laughed.

Sam grabbed Brooke's arm and pulled her out of the room, giving her a disciplinary look. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and turned to find Dean giving her a complimentary look from the other side of the study.

"I salted the doors and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain't gettin' in." Bobby said as he entered the room screwing the cap back on a metal container.

The boys exchanged looks and Dean stepped in front of the girl. "Where's our father, Meg?" The demon had a name, interesting.

She smiled, "You didn't ask very nice."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Where's our father, Bitch?"

"Geeze, you kiss your mother with that mouth?" She let out a little giggle, "Oh I forgot, you don't." Brooke closed my eyes and sighed, talking about Mary was a sure way to piss Dean off, which it did.

"You think this is a frickin' game?" He practically yelled as he leaned over the chair, putting his face in hers. "Where is he! What did you do to him!"

"He died screaming. I killed him myself." Meg said almost reluctantly.

Brooke watched Dean's back go rigid just before he back handed Meg across the face.

"That's kinda a turn on, you hitting a girl." Meg said with a flirtatious look on her face.

"You're no girl." Dean said with disgust.

"Dean." Bobby stood up and walked out of the room.

Dean turned to follow and Sam fell into step with him, "You okay?"

"She's lying, he's not dead." Dean said in anger.

"Dean you gotta be careful with her. Don't hurt her." Bobby said once they were all convened in the kitchen.

"Why?" Dean said with a look of confusion on his face,

"Because she really is a girl, that's why."

"What are you talking about?" Sam interjected.

"She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon, can't you tell?" They all looked back at Meg. Who looked back at them with a crooked, cynical smile.

"You're trying to tell me that there's a girl in there somewhere?" Dean asked with surprise.

Bobby just nodded.

Brooke instinctively reached up and ran her fingers over her scar, and quickly realized that yesterday's makeup may not be covering it so well. She saw Dean's gaze catch her movement. He saw her putting her hand to her face and the look on his changed from frustration to defeat. Then it hit her.

"That's actually good news." She said. She rummaged through the piles of books until she found the right one. "Exorcism." she said when she received quizzical looks from all three of them. Each of them replied with a look that could only be described as "duh". She quickly found the page they needed and handed the book to Dean, who happened to be looking over her shoulder.

"Nice." He patted her on the shoulder. "Here Sammy, my Latin's a little rusty." He handed the book to Sam and walked back into the study. Sam gave Brooke a look asking if she wanted to do the honors, but she waved him off. Her Latin was a little rusty too, that and rather than worrying if she was pronouncing things correctly she preferred to watch the bitch suffer.

Back in the study Brooke stood directly in front of Meg, the better to see her squirm. She had killed her father and for that she was going straight back to hell.

Meg's gaze moved from Brooke, to Dean, to Sam who was holding the book.

"You gonna read me a bedtime story?"

"Something like that." Brooke smiled.

"Hit it, Sam." Dean said from behind her.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."

"An exorcism? Are you serious?" Meg looked Brooke straight in the eye.

"Oh we're going for it baby, head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards." Dean said as he walked around the chair.

Through all this Sam continued to read. "Ergo, draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica, adjuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas,"

Meg began to cringe and Sam stopped reading and looked at Dean.

"I'm gonna kill you." Meg said. "I'm going to rip the bones from your body."

"No, you're gonna burn in hell, unless you tell us where our dad is." Dean leaned in from behind her and said in her ear. Meg just stared forward. "Well at least you'll get a nice tan." He looked up and gave Sam the signal to keep reading.

"eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis, Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili Nomini quem inferi tremunt Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine."

Meg began to writhe in pain as Sam continued to read the exorcism.

"AH!"

Sam stopped reading.

Meg looked Brooke straight in the eye and said, "He begged for his life you know. Your father and theirs." She looked from Brooke to Sam. "Your dad begged with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his boys one last time. That's when I slit his throat." Sam and Dean exchanged looks and Sam went right back to reading, a look of determination on his face.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica"

Dean walked around and confronted Meg to her face. He leaned in and said, "For your sake, I hope you're lying. Cuz if it's true, I swear to GOD! I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter, each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me god." Meg cried out in agony as Sam continued to read. "Where is he?" Dean asked as he began to walk around the room once more.

"You just won't take dead for an answer will you?" Meg said in between grunts and groans.

"WHERE IS HE?"

"DEAD!"

"NO HE'S NOT! HE'S NOT DEAD! HE CAN'T BE!" Every muscle in Dean's body was tight as he tried to restrain himself from striking the demon, the only thing that knew where his father was. He noticed that Sam had stopped reading and that they were all staring at him. His eyes caught Brooke's and a flash of surprised crossed his face as he recognized the look of anger and hatred that was set upon hers as she looked at Meg. He looked at Sam. "What are you looking at, keep reading."

Meg began to scream. Watching her writhe around in that chair, watching her scream and moan, was almost too much for Brooke. She wanted to see this demon bitch suffer and be sent back to hell. After all, she had killed her father. But watching it all happen, and realizing the sheer hate and anger that was building up inside of her, stronger than she had ever felt before, it just all became too much for her. This demon was possessing this poor girl. This poor, innocent girl. Making her do things that were unspeakable. The demon may have been the one in pain, but what Brooke saw was this girl, trapped, and incapable of defending herself. Just like she had been. Her heart began to race, and she was almost in a panic as she realized she had to get out of there. She stormed out of the room, no doubt followed by everyone's gaze, and planted herself at the bottom of the stairs.

She could still hear Meg screaming as Sam continued to read the exorcism, but she couldn't leave the house. If Meg had brought friends they were certainly outside just waiting for someone to come out. So Brooke covered her ears and started humming to herself. She started humming an old Johnny Cash song, her father's favorite singer. As she sat there on the stairs humming, tears rolled down her cheeks. She was getting her revenge. The thing that killed her father was being sent back to hell where it belonged, than why did she still feel so empty? So lost?

She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, but she suddenly realized the screaming had stopped. She stood, wiped the tears from her face, and walked into the study. All three men kneeled over the girl as she lie on the floor. She was whispering something to them, as Brooke drew closer all she caught was the word "Sunrise" and then the girl was gone. All three of them had looks of remorse on their faces as they stood up. There was a moment where they all looked at each other, as the realization that this girl was dead sunk in.

"We should call someone." Brooke said softly, her voice still choked up from crying.

Bobby picked up the phone and made the call while the boys cleaned up the chair and got rid of the restraints. Brooke couldn't make herself do anything except look at the girl. She had nothing to do with this. She was just some poor innocent girl who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and was possessed by some demon, and now she was dead. She was used as a meat suit and made to do god awful things, including killing Brooke's father.

"What happened to her do you know?" Brooke asked no one in particular.

"What do you mean?" Sam replied.

"I mean what happened to her that killed her? It wasn't the exorcism; it had to be something else." She turned to face him.

"She fell out a seventh floor window."

She nodded and walked into the kitchen, another innocent victim of this fight against evil.

"Thanks." Bobby hung up the phone. "You boys get everything cleaned up?"

"Yeah, no evidence of foul play." Dean said as he wiped his hands on a dish rag.

"Well you boys better get outta here before the paramedics get here." Bobby said ushering them out. "Brooke and I will handle it from here." He gestured towards Brooke as she stood by the back door.

"What are you gonna tell 'em?" Dean asked as he put his jacket on.

"You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I'll figure something out." He handed Sam the book that contained the protective circles, "Here. You might need it"

"Thanks." Sam said taking the book.

"Thanks, for everything," Dean said with a nod.

"You boys just get your daddy back, and when you do, you bring him around, you hear, I won't even try to shoot him this time." Bobby gave them a half smile and turned back to the study.

Brooke opened the back door for them. Sam stooped down and gave her a hug as he said good bye, then headed out the door.

Dean paused with his hand on the door and turned to look at her. "You alright?"

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, at six foot one; her eyes were just about level with his nose. "No." she replied softly.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Sorry, stupid question."

"It's just a lot right now, you know," He nodded his head slowly, "but don't worry about me." She punched him lightly in the stomach and gave a half assed smile. "I've been through a lot in my life, and I'll get through this too, eventually. You just worry about finding your dad."

He didn't say anything. He just put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a heartfelt look, then walked out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

As she stood watching the paramedics take Meg's body out the front door she couldn't help but think about what had happened to her father's body. Had whoever found him given him a proper burial? Did they cremate him or did they bury him? Had anyone actually found him or was his body still lying there, cold and alone?

"Miss?" The deputy said bringing her back to reality. "Can you repeat that last bit for me please?"

"Yeah, sure. I came in and saw Bobby on the phone, apparently talking to you guys, and saw the girl on the floor, dead." Just as she and Bobby had rehearsed.

"And where were you when the fall occurred?" The deputy said as he wrote her statement down.

"I wasn't here. I just arrived."

"Just arrived?"

"I'm just visiting." She took a deep breath, "My father just passed and Bobby is the only family I have and he offered to put me up for a while." She felt a stitch in her side tighten. She had said it out loud for the first time.

"Alright, and just to clarify, you've never seen this girl before today?"

"No, sir, I have not."

Bobby's story was that she was a transient that was helping him on a few projects in exchange for cash and she was up on the roof of the shop fixing a leak when she slipped and fell. It was the only "accident" he could think of that would explain her injuries.

When the deputies and the paramedics had gotten on their way Bobby turned to Brooke and looked her straight in the eye. He didn't speak, he just looked at her for a good few seconds, then gestured for her to follow him outside. As they walked through the lot her mind went back to what had happened to her father's body. She didn't want to think about it, it hurt to think the man that had always been there, the man that had protected her all her life was reduced to a body, an empty shell. Sure they didn't get along much the past few years and he always made her feel underappreciated and useless, but he was her father and she had to know if he was given the proper respects, the respects of a hunter. She wiped away a tear as she spoke, "Bobby, do you know what happened to my dad's body?"

He stopped walking and turned to face her. A look of surprise mixed with utter concern on his face. She could tell he was surprised she was ready to even talk about my father yet. "A hunter friend of mine found him and Caleb and gave them both a hunter's send off. Proper respects were paid and proper care was given."

"Thanks."

He nodded and continued walking toward the shop.

It was customary to salt and burn the body of a hunter upon their demise. Angry ghosts are generally created through a brutal death. Many hunters don't wish to roam this earth and become the things that they hunt, and as they more often than not die a gruesome death, the only way to prevent this is to salt and burn the body. It's become almost ritualistic with wrapping the body in white cloth and then placing it upon a large pyre of wood to be burned. There were still some that opted for the traditional burial, but her dad had wanted to be burned and she was happy to hear his wishes had been carried out.

They stopped walking just outside the shop next to a beaten up, rusting sedan. To which Bobby gestured.

"What about it?" It was a piece of junk, not even worth a dime.

"This is your project to earn your keep. Tear her down. Anything worth keeping I want you to put in the shop, everything else is to go over in that bin. And when you're done with this one, I'll give ya another." He tipped his hat and walked away.

Brooke knew this project was a bunch of bull. There was nothing on this car worth salvaging so tearing this car down served no purpose but to keep her busy. Bobby of course was well aware that she knew this. She just shook my head and got to work. She welcomed the busy work. The less idle she was the less likely she was to let her mind wander. She knew she would have to face it all eventually, and that she would have to deal with it, but she just wasn't ready to do that all quite yet. She knew my father had been given a hunter's send off and for now that was enough for her. She would deal with the rest of it later.

As she wiped grease from her hands she realized the sun was going down. She hadn't realized she had been at this project for that long. She tossed the rag in a bin and headed up to the house.

"I was just about to give you a holler." Bobby said from in front of the stove, as she walked in the back door and took off her boots. "I hope you like sausage it's all I got right now," he gave her a sheepish smile. Bobby was a constant bachelor and lived alone with very few guests. She hardly expected him to prepare her a five course meal with game hen as the main course, let alone cook for her at all.

"Sausage is fine." She said as she grabbed a couple beers from the nearly empty fridge. She made a mental note to do some proper grocery shopping tomorrow.

She sat down at the small kitchen table and set one of the beers on the side closest to him. As Bobby cooked she looked around the room and realized how run down this place really was. When she was younger she thought it was cool that Bobby lived in this run down place, gave him more of an edge, but now, as she took in the peeling wallpaper and discolored kitchen cabinets, she realized just how alone Bobby really was. His wife had died long before she had met him and he'd been alone ever since.

She was lost in thoughts about Bobby and his life when she felt something scratch her arm. She looked down and saw that on the arm of the chair were rub marks. This had been the chair they had tied Meg to earlier. This was the chair that innocent girl had been strapped down to while they exorcised the demon that had taken over her body. Brooke wondered if she had been awake through it all and if she had lived would she still feel the straps rubbing her wrists raw years later as Brooke still did. She closed her eyes and reminded herself that John had been doing what he thought he had to.

She looked up to see Bobby standing beside the table, plates in hand, staring at her. When they made eye contact he gave an unsure smile and set a plate in front of her. They ate in silence. She could tell by his sideways glances that Bobby was concerned for her. She had been through a lot these past couple days. She would be concerned for her too if she were him. She wanted to tell him that she was okay, that she would get through it, but she honestly didn't know if she was okay or not.

She thanked Bobby for the meal and headed off to the spare room. On her way out of the kitchen she spotted a bottle of whiskey amongst some books that was still half full. She grabbed it as she walked by, hoping Bobby didn't see, but she knew he had.

She sat on the floor with her back against the bed and stared at the wall. Her mind immediately began to reel. She wasn't sure which emotion to feel first or which thought was forming when. They all just came in a rush all jumbled together. She took a long draw from the whiskey and welcomed the burn.

She didn't want to think about any of it. She didn't want to think about her father dying and leaving her alone in this world. She didn't want to think about why these old memories of that night in Illinois kept creeping back up. She didn't want to think about that poor innocent girl that had died earlier today. She didn't want to feel the pain, she didn't want to feel the anger, she didn't want to feel the emptiness. Because than it would all be real, and she didn't want to accept that it was real, that it was all really happening. She took another draw from the bottle and felt the world around her slip away just slightly. She had never been one to turn to the bottle, but she wasn't ready to face reality, not yet. She wasn't ready to feel the pain. Yes, she had exacted her revenge for her father and that demon bitch was back in hell where she belonged, but for some reason that didn't seem to matter, it didn't seem to make anything better. She took another long swig and slowly allowed its poisons to take her over. She remembered the promise she had made to herself the night before, the demon was gone, and she smiled slightly at how fast that revenge had been taken out, but now that it was all over she was getting out. She needed to get away from all this death and pain. She wanted a regular life. She took another draw from the bottle as she realized that Sam, who had wanted out so badly, had seemed to get pulled back in, but she didn't have a brother like Dean to drag her ass back in. She had no one so a fresh start was possible for her. As she finished off the bottle and the world began to slip away she made the decision to start her new life at first light.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

She awoke the next morning with the inevitable headache of someone who downed half a fifth of whiskey in less than an hour. As she walked to the bathroom, change of clothes and toiletries in hand, she could hear Bobby snoring away down the hall.

A blinding pain shot through her brain as she flicked on the bathroom light. She stood there blinking for a minute or two, allowing her eyes and her hangover to adjust to the blinding light. She set her things on the toilet seat and stood to examine herself in the mirror. Her two day old makeup was showing its age. Her eyeliner had decided to finally dislodge and smudge down her cheeks following the trail her tears had taken the night before and her foundation was nearly nonexistent and flaky. She sighed as she took her disheveled self in. She hardly recognized herself anymore. In just two days she had gone from a young, almost pretty girl with such life, to this mess. She hated what she saw in the mirror: a helpless, scared, pitiful girl who couldn't hold herself together, everything that she was not.

"Pull yourself together." she told her reflection, "No one is going to hold your hand through this, you're in this alone now, so suck it up."

Brooke watched as the girl in the mirror turned from a frightened child into a determined young woman. Satisfied with what she saw, but still unsure of how long it would last, she turned to take a shower.

After she quickly and quietly showered, dressed and put fresh makeup in place, she made her way slowly and quietly down the stairs.

She hadn't forgotten her plan to leave and start her life anew, but she wanted to do something nice for Bobby before she just took off on him. So she cleaned the kitchen and straightened things up a little bit. Tossing empty whiskey bottles in the trash and giving things a good dusting. As she put an unopened beer back in the nearly empty fridge she remembered that she had planned on doing some real grocery shopping. She looked at the clock and saw that it was 8 AM. There had to be a store open somewhere. So she quickly made a list of what she knew Bobby ate and headed out the door.

After some driving around town she finally found a tiny family run market that was open. As she walked through the automatic doors she grabbed a shopping cart and instinctively headed toward the produce aisle. She smiled when she found herself surrounded by apples and carrots, knowing full well that Bobby would not eat this, but she grabbed a few apples anyway.

She ran into a few employees stocking shelves, obviously surprised anyone was actually in the store at this hour. She politely smiled and walked by, not wanting to start up any small talk. She wanted to get this done with and get out on the road to her new life as fast as she could. The less time she spent idling in this one the better. However, you can't escape the cashier. She sighed when she saw the ear to ear smile of the young gal that stood at the register as she approached.

"Hi there. Did you find everything alright?" she asked as she slowly began to ring things up.

"Yeah, thanks." If she kept her answers short she may get the hint.

"Haven't seen you around before. You new in town?" she continued to scan and bag at a glacial pace.

"Just visiting."

"Oh? Who? I know just about everybody here in Sioux Falls." This time she actually paused. Brooke's patience was running thin with this one. She made a note to herself to avoid small towns as she searched out her new home.

"Just my uncle, who's expecting breakfast when he wakes up so if you wouldn't mind." Brooke gave her a quick smile, which seemed to do the trick because the girl nodded and hurried up the rest of the transaction.

Bags in her arms, she walked out to her car, as she was about to unlock the door she caught a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see a little girl, not much older than seven dancing around saying, "Please Daddy? Please!" Brooke's heart sank as she saw her dark curls bounce around her tiny little face, and saw her fierce green eyes smile up at her as she waved when she caught Brooke looking. She reminded Brooke of herself.

She looked up at the father, who was also waving with a "What can ya do?" look on his face. He too had dark curls and green eyes, just like her father. She tried to conjure up a memory of her own that resembled this interaction, but she couldn't. She and her father didn't see much of each other when she was that age, much less ever have that kind of relationship. She learned at a very young age that when Daddy came home you left him alone.

She used to stay with Aunt Julie whenever her dad was off on a hunt, who to this day she didn't think was really actually her aunt. When he would come back he would be either injured or in a bad mood. He would shut himself up in Aunt Julie's study and not come out sometimes for days. She remembered the first time she had entered without knocking. She must have been six:

_She had just made a batch of yummy cookies and wanted to share them with her father. She slowly opened the sliding doors leading to the study and slid into the room without making a sound. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the walls had been covered in photographs and news paper clippings depicting some very terrible things. She remembered them because they had never been there before. _

_Her father was at the desk with his back to her. She slowly walked towards him captivated by all the photographs. As she drew closer she saw a picture of her mother on the wall directly in front of him, she only knew her from photographs he had shown her, it made her smile, but not for long. Alongside her photograph were newspaper clippings and more photos depicting her mother in gruesome circumstances; lying on the floor in a precarious position, covered in blood. She gasped and dropped the plate of cookies. _

_Her father spun around in surprise, "Brooke, what are you…" then he followed her gaze to the photos of her mother and his expression changed from surprise to anger. He walked around from behind the desk and escorted her out of the room, his grip on her arm tighter than it had ever been. "How many times have I told you to never come in here!" The first time he had ever raised his voice to her._

"_But Daddy, why do you have pictures of Mommy like that? What happened to her?" tears welling up in her eyes, rubbing her arm where he had grabbed her._

"_That is not of your concern. Stay out of this room!" and he slammed the doors in her face. _

She knew now that he thought anger and firmness would protect her from the truth and keep her curiosity at bay for fear of angering him again, but that day shaped their relationship, from that point forward she always feared angering him. She never fully trusted him with anything. Whenever he would come home she would steer clear of him and let him do his job. They never had father-daughter moments, they never bonded. They were just two people who coexisted. When she became old enough to help him on hunts, once John had convinced him to allow her to, she became his soldier, his partner, not his daughter. A partner he never fully trusted. She could never seem to move fast enough, think sharp enough, or aim sure enough for his satisfaction. He left her behind more often than not.

It pained her seeing this father-daughter interaction and not being able to conjure up her own memory with her father. She gave them both a quick smile and quickly unlocked the car and got in.

She pulled up to Bobby's just as he was walking out the door.

"Let's go." He motioned towards the tow truck the second she got out of the car.

"Good morning to you too," She said as she heaved one of the grocery bags into her arms.

"Put that stuff in the house and let's get a move on."

She gave him a quizzical look as she walked past him into the house. He seemed a little nervous about something. She peeked out the window as she set the bags on the counter and saw him almost pacing by the truck. She became a little concerned. Bobby almost never showed his panic. He always managed to appear calm in even the direst of situations. She quickly put away the perishables and left the rest for later.

"What's the deal, Bobby? Why so in a hurry?" She asked as she locked the back door behind her.

"I'll tell ya on the way." He watched her walk around the back of the truck to the passenger side, a contemplative look on his face, before he opened the driver door and got in.

They sat in silence as he pulled out of the driveway and drove through town, a look of determination on his face. Every few minutes he would look over at her like he was about to say something and then turn back to the road.

"Bobby, seriously, you're starting to scare me a little. What's going on?" Brooke finally asked as he pulled onto the freeway.

He sighed and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Sam called. They found John, he was possessed by the demon," her heart stopped, "It didn't stick around for long, but it apparently did a number on them all before it took off. They were on their way to the hospital when they were hit by an 18 wheeler. Sam didn't give me too many details, just that we need to get the impala from the impound lot before anyone sees the arsenal they got in there. We're meeting Sam at the hospital on our way."

She turned and looked out the window. They couldn't be that hurt. Sam was up and around enough to join us at the impound lot, so they had to be fine… right?

She started fidgeting in her seat as they pulled off the freeway and started following the signs to the hospital. The entire drive she had wanted to call Sam to get the full details, to find out if everyone was okay, but she didn't want to be stuck on the road feeling helpless if the news had been bad, so she refrained.

She was about to explode when they pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. She saw Sam standing just inside the automatic doors and leapt from the truck before Bobby had come to a full stop. It took every fiber of her being not to run across that parking lot. She walked at a controlled steady pace, listening to her heart pound in her ears. He was up right, standing on his own. He didn't seem to be using the wall to hold himself up. That was a good sign. As she drew closer his face began to come in to focus. She saw the swelling of his eye, the busted lip, and the multiple cuts on his face. He gave a crooked smile when he saw her, but it wasn't his smile, she could tell it was for her benefit, the pain in his eyes gave that away.

The three of them had always been a tight knit family. They cared for each other more than anything in this world. They would each die for one another without hesitation. Brooke knew that Sam was feeling a thousand times more fear and anxiety over this than she could even imagine. When she was within arm's reach she wrapped her arms around his waist. She thought maybe more for her sake than for his, she wasn't sure, all she knew was it didn't seem to make a difference for either of them.

"How are they?" she asked as she pulled away.

"Dad's okay, a little beat up, but okay," he started to fidget a little and avoided eye contact.

The smile he had given her as she approached, the way he hugged her tighter than normal, and the way he was avoiding her gaze already answered her question, but she had to ask, "and Dean?"

He didn't answer, but the look he gave her told her everything she needed to know.


End file.
